


Dobbelganger

by hoosonja



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Excessive Drinking, No Smut, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosonja/pseuds/hoosonja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bård gets pass-out drunk and gets help getting home from an unexpected person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dobbelganger

Bård had a rough day. He had fought with his wife the night before, hard, and she had packed up the kids and left to spend the weekend in Bergen at a friend’s house. She had dropped the kids off at Bård’s parents, it was the weekend, so their school wouldn’t suffer.

Bård was so pissed off he pulled on a hoodie and a cap and thus disguised slipped in a local dive bar that usually had a seedy clientele to say the least. None of them cared that he somewhat famous, they rather nursed their beers or stiffer drinks. Bård sat in a shady corner and started emptying one beer after the other. When he felt he was sufficiently sloshed, he scrambled up and walked out with unsteady legs.

When the sidewalk outside of the bar made a sudden move toward his face, a steady pair of arms was there to help him with his balance. Bård turned to look, but could not see the face properly. He guessed it was a younger man, but couldn’t be quite sure after dropping one of his contact lenses somewhere. He suspected he had the other one on backwards or something, because the world suddenly seemed very fuzzy indeed.

“Do you need a hand?” the person asked, or at least Bård thought he did, because the young man’s accent was quite peculiar.

“Yeah, I think I could use a friend to help me home,” Bård slurred.

Arms around each other the men walked toward Bård’s beautiful Oslo home, swaying gently when Bård’s steps weaved from a straight course and the younger man’s strength wasn’t enough to keep him upright. Bård had to stop once to throw up, but the young man didn’t leave him, just waited patiently for him to finish and then helped him on.

“Thish is me,” Bård said. “I think.”

He took out his keys, but for some reason the lock kept jumping about and Bård just wasn’t quite quick enough to catch it with his house key.

“Let me try,” was probably what the young man said, but Bård wasn’t sure, the accent was so thick and strange.

He tried sticking a finger in his ear to make sure there wasn’t anything there blocking his hearing, but his ears seemed to be situated in a different place than usually, he kept finding his cheek instead. After a few tries he sighed frustratedly and gave up. The young man seemed to have more luck with the lock and opened the door to usher Bård in ahead of him. He tried to take a hold on the doorframe, but the bastard slipped away from his hand and Bård almost fell face first into the hallway carpet but for the slender young man. He was there to catch Bård, who said “Oopsie,” and giggled.

“Let’s get you to bed,” was what Bård thought the man said next.

“Shure,” he slurred and walked toward the bedroom, held by the young man.

Bård slumped on the side of the bed and after almost falling over trying to get his shoes off, the young man kneeled next to Bård’s feet to help him to take them off. He was quick and efficient, like he’d done it many times before, and soon Bård was in his underpants. The young man took off Bård’s jacket, shirt and tee, tossing them on the floor in pile.

“You are sho helpful,” Bård said. “I’d like to take a shelfie with you sho I’ll remember you tomorrow,” he slurred.

“Sure,” the young man said.

After the picture the man tucked Bård in the bed, fetched a pail with some water at the bottom and placed it next to the bed.

“In case you get ill,” he said, or at least Bård thought he did anyway.

That’s all Bård remembered, he passed out soon after. When he woke up, he found a glass of water with some ibuprofen on his nightstand, and there was a note underneath it that said “You should take a better care of yourself, Bård Urheim Ylvisåker.” It was signed by Brynjar Kvam.

 _No way, Brynjar isn’t even real,_ Bård thought and picked up his cellphone.

There was one recent picture taken, one from the previous night. Bård opened it with shaking hands. It was a snapshot of him, almost passed out with his short hair sticking out and of a young man with a shoulder-length hair that was slightly curly, looking at the camera with piercing blue eyes and a mischievous grin. He looked remarkably like Bård used to look in his early twenties, around the time he had a radio show with his brother Vegard.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my own prompt for my writing group, the assignment was to write an actor or comedian who meets one of his old characters in real life.


End file.
